


Warm beneath the Snow

by Inopportunist



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Pitch likes to ruin things, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inopportunist/pseuds/Inopportunist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack saves the most precious gift anyone could ever have given Aster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Response to this prompt: http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2389.html?thread=3894101#cmt3894101
> 
> I'm posting all of the parts here in hopes that it will motivate me to write the next chapter up.

Rarely did Bunny speak to the Man in the Moon himself. Once upon a time, they had actually spoken quite often and candidly, not as much friends as two beings who shared a mutual loneliness and wanted to fill the silence of their days. But this day Tsar Luna seemed rather eager to speak, flooding the offshoot tunnel with iridescent moonbeams. Bunnymund was lucky to have glanced the glow from the corner of his eye while watering his egg plants and had quickly followed the light to its source.

Mostly, Bunnymund kept the Warren as tight as possible – no need for anyone to wander into his subterranean home, especially not Jack – but there was one hole leading skyward. It was meant for emergencies and allowed for a bit of air flow into the Warren and Bunnymund supposed that Manny felt this to be an emergency.

He reached the chamber in a few quick strides, stopping just shy of the moonbeams. 

“What’s got you all huffed up?” he murmured.

When no response came, Bunnymund moved into the glow and looked straight up through the tunnel into the brilliant moonlight.

His eyes were immediately overwhelmed and he quickly looked away, blinking madly, but when he opened his eyes once more, he wasn’t in the Warren any longer.

The sky was clear and open above him and the grass soft beneath his paws. Before him was a waterfall, small and merrily trickling down the side of a low cliff, barely taller than Bunny himself. Water pooled at his feet, unpolluted and translucent, and he could view the muddy floor of the little pond where he saw something.

Something…

He stepped closer and bent down. It seemed so familiar…

Were those…

 _Kits,_ the moonbeams whispered, though they were nowhere in sight.

“Kits?” he wondered.

 _Yours,_ the moon replied.

“My kits?” he blinked, shaking his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be, they were dead, all dead. Pitch had destroyed them.

_Gift._

“What?”

_Yours._

“Wait,” Bunnymund hesitated. Dare he ask? “They’re… They’re real?”

_Yes._

“But where? Where are they, Manny? I-” the Pooka looked back to the pool, peering closer. He counted four little Pooka-things, not really big enough to be called babies and small enough to escape the notice of anyone just passing by.

_Protect._

The vision vanished, leaving Bunnymund standing in the moonlit chamber.

“How the bloody hell am I supposed to protect them if I don’t know where they are?!”

He glared up through the tunnel but Manny did not reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that Manny has a terrible time communicating with words, hence the one-word responses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's Chapter 2, which is in present-tense because I can't seem to write in anything but present tense for this fic now...

What the moment lacks in coherency is made up for in the pure joy radiating from Bunnymund. His excitement penetrates the room, a contagion that quickly captures the other Guardians. There is buzzing and laughter and glowing sand zipping through the room. But Jack is quiet, brow crinkled in confusion.

“What’s a Pooka?” he asks loudly, loud enough to be heard over the din of his fellows.

Silence. Utter and absolute silence. They have forgotten Jack, forgotten his newness and ignorance of the Celestials, of the great battles of old and the Lunanoffs and the destruction of entire races.

Tooth races to him, pulling his arm until he sits on the plush couch in North’s sitting room. Bunny moves to join them but the Guardian of Wonder is quick to stop him with a hand on his shoulder, leading him away to the study.

They settle near the windows overlooking the plain of snow beyond the cliff where the Workshop is perched.

“Is good news, my friend,” North begins, facing the windows with arms behind his back. “We must plan for protection of new kits, yes?”

Bunnymund blinks, he’d almost forgotten. “S’pose so, Manny wasn’t so clear ‘bout it though.”

“No idea what we must protect kits from?”

“No, mate, not a clue. Didn’t even tell me where they are, really,” the Pooka realizes. Oh God, he doesn’t know where they _are_. They’re not _safe_ and he doesn’t even know where to _find_ them.

North looks more than a little shocked at the insight, uncertainty glazes over his posture momentarily before he looks the self-assured bandit once more.

“No worries, we will find little ones quickly! I am expert tracker!” the large man assures.

Bunnymund highly doubts that but says nothing, more concerned with the possibility of losing the kits before he ever finds them. But he decides then, that as the Guardian of Hope, he cannot give up hope himself. They _will_ find the Pooka kits and keep them safe. They _must_ or he may never have this opportunity again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap was that short!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit's a little longer than the last.

The shadow darts and weaves, swiftly following the five on their journey. Avoiding moonlight, it twists and slips through the trees, passing villages and fields and oceans and continents as the Guardians search for something. It _must_ be important or they would not have gathered. Together, they search and search and search and the shadow grows weary, not strong enough to maintain itself much longer. But perhaps _they_ grow tired as well, as they stop in a small, stony clearing far to the north atop a mountain. Everything around is cold, freezing, but the clearing is impossibly warm and the shadow hears water trickling before it fully dissolves into nothingness.

**(Page Break)**

Bunnymund is reluctant to enter the clearing, afraid of disappointment; afraid that the Man in the Moon had lied somehow, showed him a false vision. But the grassy opening is so _familiar_ and he cannot simply forget the joy and elation he’d felt when he’d seen the barely-formed bodies of the four kits. The others stand behind him, wishing for him to be the first to see the pool at the base of the little spring. Tooth puts a hand on his shoulder, seeing his hesitance, and smiles reassuringly.

He breathes deeply before placing one hind-paw forward and following it with the other and again and again until he is close enough to see into the clear pool. Bunnymund doesn’t look though, not at first, his eyes dart everywhere, examining the stone and the trees and the grass. Before long, curiosity and desperation win out and he closes his eyes and turns his head toward the pool. Near the entrance to the clearing his friends wait patiently and he can hear their breathing, the anticipation of fluttering hearts and wings and a harsh squeeze to a frosty shepherd’s crook.

One eye opens tentatively, staring down before it widens and the other snaps open as well.

They _are_ there.  
In the pool, exactly as they appeared in the vision given to him by Manny are four kits, tiny, barely more than zygotes.

He must gasp because the others move to surround him, peering closely. Jack drops to his knees, blue eyes wide as North’s wonder-filled gaze, and bends over the pool for a closer look. Sandy looks like he might burst into sand fireworks.

“Oh, Bunnymund,” says Tooth, Baby Tooth resting on her shoulder. And said Pooka suddenly realizes that the fairy understands the astonishment he feels. The sudden thrill and overwhelming fear and grateful wonder wriggling through his stomach and his thoughts are what she must feel for her fairies, her own daughters.

“What’s that?” asks Jack, and suddenly fear grips all of them. The youngest of the Guardians is pointing to a shadowy film forming in the darkness of the tree branches.

Though he wants to jump at it, force it away, keep it from the little things floating and growing and finally living in the pond, Bunnymund stays still. He knows what that is, can feel the essence of Pitch Black and the accompanying fear shivering through the air around the clearing. Jack seems to recognize it as well after a few moments.

No one moves.

“Well, what a wonderful surprise, catching all of you here. Together,” the Nightmare King smirks, his grey skin seeming to suck in the light around him and darken the wispy shadows writhing across the grass. “What is so _important_ , I wonder, that you would come all the way _here_?”

They are quiet.

Jack stands, his staff in hand, ready to strike down Pitch, his expression is murderous and Tooth calms him with a hand on his should. Bunnymund feels the rage build within in him as well, but he is not so young, so reckless and passionate as Jack, able to hold himself still. But he hears North draw his swords as Pitch glides forward to meet them.

The King of Nightmares is obviously less powerful than before, but more so than the Guardians would have expected. Bunnymund’s muscles tense anxiously as Pitch’s gaze moves to the pool, searching and searching for what they have seen, the reason they have journeyed so far.

And he finds it; he finds it and howls with laughter.

“Pooka kits? Really now, the Man in the Moon has outdone himself!” the dark figure cackles, looming ever closer to the water, darkness stretching out to the miniscule forms floating there.

Faster than anyone can track, Bunnymund slams a boomerang out into the air. It catches Pitch both ways around but simply slices through shadow which dissipates and reforms effortlessly. The Pooka growls.

Suddenly Pitch Black is inches from his face. “I wouldn’t do that again, if I were you,” he threatens.

Blue frost hits the dark figure from behind, spraying out around him and Bunny feels the weight of ice on the ends of his whiskers. “Well I would!” shouts Jack, followed by the slice of North’s sword.

Pitch appears on the other side of the pond then, and the Guardian of Wonder shouts in surprise when his strike misses and has to pull back quickly to avoid cutting open Bunnymund’s feet. And Tooth is already darting through the air, wailing a battle cry and scimitar in hand. A nightmare slams into her, throwing her back into Jack. They fall in a heap on the ground.

Everything is still for that moment.

Then Pitch chuckles and Bunnymund’s heart skips a beat as his world begins to end.

The shadows creep across the pool and the Pooka pushes North aside, paw outstretched. The fearlings – the Guardians can see their burning eyes now and _why_ didn’t they realize that Pitch couldn’t have done this alone, on his own depleted powers – drift upward dramatically to encircle the kits and Bunnymund can hear his own choked sob echo through the clearing.

_Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone!_ They are _gone_ he thinks. Before he could ever _see_ them, _hold_ them, _name_ them, he has lost them. Lost them like he lost his brethren millennia ago, lost them like he lost everything he held dear. His heart pounds and he gasps for breath.

A beat.

He blinks.

Another.

Light fills the clearing and Jack stands in the pool, throwing back the fearlings with his ice. Pitch’s rage resounds as his darkness dissolves. His cry is cut short with the swing of a blade and he dissolves with another blast of spidering blue frost.

Bunnymund falls back, landing hard, eyes wide. Jack stands, turning around in confusion, searching the water and though they have won, have driven Pitch back to the depths of darkness and fear, Bunny feels that he may have failed the kits anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out much fluffier than I believed it would.
> 
> Woops...

The water of the pool feels lukewarm to Jack and it laps at his waist as he turns around. He searches and searches and looks into the depths but he doesn’t see them.

They’re simply gone. They’ve disappeared and he isn’t certain how or why. The fearlings never reached the kits, he’d made sure they hadn’t, had forced them back and destroyed them. But the kits are gone.

Dizziness overwhelms him. They’re _gone_. It’s his fault, he knows it, he couldn’t protect them and now they’re gone and Bunnymund will have no one. The Pooka will die out with E. Aster Bunnymund and the universe will blame Jack Frost. And it’s like with Pitch all over again, he makes a mess of everything.

There are spots in his vision and the colors of the landscape are too bright, oversaturated. At the same time, it is as if someone has stuffed cotton in his ears and he can hear a pounding faintly. Tooth says something and there is a warm hand on his forehead. He feels numb.

**(Page Break)**

“Jack?”

North’s voice is close and Jack’s eyes flutter open and he wonders how they reached the North Pole without his noticing. He mumbles something, but he’s not even sure what he means to say. His whole body is heavy, pressing down into what must be a bed. A short distance away, Tooth is chattering with her girls and he can hear them buzzing back.

“Wuh?” he hears himself ask.

“You fainted, Jack,” North responds. “How you feel now?”

“Mm,” he knows this isn’t really a reply but his face feels numb and his lips won’t work.

“Tired?” the Guardian of Wonder asks and Jack thinks he nods but his neck is both loose and stiff at the same time and he may have just turned his head a little. North seems to understand anyway, answering sagely that Jack should sleep.

Jack turns as best he can and sleeps long and hard.

**(Page Break)**

It is dark when he opens his eyes, wondering again when exactly they arrived at the Workshop because he’s already forgotten talking to North. But he remembers the conversation when he stands and sees North in a large, overstuffed chair near the bed. The large man snores raucously and Jack fights a giggle he can feel tickling the back of his throat.

His mouth is dry and there’s a strange taste to it so he leaves for the kitchen to get water. On the way, he encounters piles of sleeping elves in the halls, making a nuisance of themselves even unconscious. But he also almost runs headlong into Phil who has a flashlight and a funny little security badge tied to the fur on his chest. The yeti grunts and garbles something.

Jack clears his throat. “Just getting something to drink,” he explains. Phil nods and turns, obviously planning to accompany him.

They reach the kitchen quickly and Jack is surprised to see the lights on. They can see the counters are piled high ingredients for cookies and three yeti and a gaggle of elves are busily mixing and pouring and baking. It must be early morning then, if the cookies are to be eaten in the morning.

Phil greets the other creatures and brushes a group of elves – carrying what looks like a miniature locomotive, three golf balls, and a bottle of maple syrup – aside and reaches into an upper cabinet for a glass. Jack takes it from him and fills it up at the tap before sipping slowly. To the side, there is a small table with yeti-sized chairs, probably for the bakers’ break times, and Jack takes a seat.

Sipping his cool water, Jack watches the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, taking in the efforts of the elves to sneak cookies. One yeti guards the confections with a spatula, whacking tiny hands away when the smaller creatures manage to reach over the edge of the counter. Phil appears to be flirting with a female yeti sporting a long ponytail and a pink apron and Jack chuckles lightly. 

The room smells pleasantly of cookies and Jack finds himself a bit overwhelmed by the sweetness. Or maybe he’s just dizzy from the day before.

Nausea creeps up from his stomach to his throat. He tastes the bile behind his teeth. Suddenly he’s hunching over the sink – he doesn’t see a garbage can but he’s not really thinking anyway – and vomiting bile and water into the stainless steel.

The female yeti he’d seen with Phil was at his side in a moment, rubbing his back and yelling gruffly at Phil who rushes from the room. Elves surround his feet, patting his ankles and squeaking in what must be reassurance.

Soon enough, he’s dry-heaving and his throat aches and he thinks he might be sobbing but North is there and Phil’s cleaning his mouth off with a cool cloth. They lead him out to the sitting room, where Jack was first told he would become a Guardian. He falls asleep on the couch, covered by a blanket with the windows open to let in a cool breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food for thought:  
> Word says "oversaturated" is a word.  
> Chrome says it isn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little angst-fest here and the mutilation of the stages of grief which I wanted to use then... didn't, for some reason.

The clearing is quiet but for the rustling of leaves and he cannot stand it. Tears slip from his eyes and clump his fur but he refuses to sob, refuses to break the quiet. The quiet exists for his kits, those who never had a chance to grow. He does not feel anger, only grief; Aster is too old for anger, too old to wish to dole out justice when there are creatures to be mourned.

At the edge of his consciousness, he knows Sandy is there, never too far but not close enough. The Pooka knows his friends grieve with him, even Jack who hardly understands the preciousness of this gift lost.

He wants to search for them. To look beneath rocks and sniff out trails, though couldn’t have run away. He wants to search every bit of the pond for them, as if they might be hiding amongst minnows and green things and mud. They are not, he knows, but his heart says they could be. He cannot feel them in the clearing, has not since the fearlings overwhelmed Jack. Jack who was hurt, Jack who had been carried away. But Jack would be safe, would recover. His kits simply _wouldn’t_ because they no longer _were_.

An hour passes and the words in his mind spiral and repeat and reform and he blames himself, even as something in him, something horrible and dark and hateful and not at all in any way like _Aster_ , something in him blames Jack. He hates this something because he _does not_ want to blame Jack. But he fears that he does and that fear wriggles and writhes and he _hates_ himself for losing hope, for losing the very center of his existence.

Another hour passes, or maybe two, or perhaps even an entire day.

Bunnymund stands, his tears run dry, and he taps the ground near the pond twice. The portal opens and the air of the Warren twists up through the hole. It smells like home and he follows the scent down.

**(Page Break)**

The Warren feels emptier, though it has never been filled, not the way it should have been. Never have the cries of a kit been heard nor the thumping of little paws. Bunny hates that too.

He hates himself and the emptiness and the loss of his kits and Pitch Black. He hates that his people are _gone_ , that he has lived so long alone.

And he hates that…

That Jack couldn’t save his kits.

He’d been _right there_. Right in the center of the action. If he had simply reached out instead of trying to disperse the shadows, he could have pulled the kits away, could have saved them.

“Not true,” he whispers to himself.

Jack couldn’t have simply pulled them away, couldn’t have touched them without possibly hurting them and Bunny _knows_ that none of them had time to think. He knows that he himself is as much to blame as Jack, if Jack is to blame at all… Which he _isn’t_ , but that wriggling, writhing fear wants him to blame, wants him to be angry, wants him to hurt.

Bunnymund doesn’t want to hurt, not himself and not others. But he still does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish it was longer...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst...
> 
> I'm always in a good mood before I write angst for some reason.

**Warm beneath the Snow**

**Part 6**

Jack wakes in the mid-morning hours, when the sun is bright but low in the sky. He’s hungry and still tired and his stomach aches oddly. There’s a soreness to it, his abdominal muscles throb and protest when he sits up and he thinks it’s probably because he vomited earlier. When he stands, the world shifts oddly and the dizziness he can barely remember returns so he plops back down on North’s couch, where it’s safe and he won’t crack his head open if he faints again.

It’s early enough in the morning that the Workshop isn’t so busy and there are only a few yeti on the floor, stacking materials on workbenches in anticipation of toy assembly. North isn’t among them but Jack thinks he can hear the jolly man’s booming voice somewhere in the distance.

Half an hour passes and Jack never finds the courage to stand, preferring the plush cushions of the sofa. He spends the minutes humming to himself and trying to will away the headache he can feel forming. Just as he begins to doze off, Sandy floats in on a cloud of golden sand, waving with a smile that doesn’t reach his glittering eyes.

“Hey,” Jack offers in reply, looking over the Guardian of Dreams. He sits up a bit, leaning his head back onto the couch as Sandy drifts down to join him.

Jack swears he can hear little bells as the dream sand shifts above the Sandman’s head.

“Me? ’m fine, just a little sore. How…” his voice catches and the Guardian of Fun shakes himself. “How’s Bunny?” He feels a pang somewhere between his throat and his heart when Sandy shakes his head, _Not well_.

Resting his face in his hands, Jack slumps forward, ignoring the pain in his midsection as he groans mournfully. A small hand rests on his shoulder, attempting to comfort. “It’s all my fault,” he mumbles lowly.

Sandy tries to lift Jack’s face, hands gripping Jack’s cheeks as he levitates before the sofa. Stubbornly, the Spirit of Winter simply holds his head down. There is a twinkling sound once more as the Sandman mimes something but Jack can’t see it, refuses to even look. He can feel a terrible knot in his stomach, beneath his aching skin and muscle, and he forces back tears and the sore throat that comes with sobbing. Lifting his gaze, he smiles a watery smile, trying to grin harder so Sandy won’t pay too close attention. It doesn’t work, of course, but Sandy won’t say anything.

Heavy stomping forewarns the entrance of North who carries a tray of broth… and oatmeal cookies. When the large man sees Jack, he stops abruptly before setting the tray on a side table and sitting in the open space next to Jack on the couch.

“Something is wrong?” he asks, moving a large hand to Jack’s back. Sandy nods rapidly, sand forming and reforming pictures above his head at an unreadable pace. North waves him off and shakes Jack a bit. The boy looks up with reddened eyes but a dry face. “What is matter? You are still sick?”

Jack shrugs but won’t open his mouth for fear that he might sob. He doesn’t want to break down, he doesn’t. He can’t. If anyone deserves to cry right now, it’s Bunny.

The Guardian of Wonder looks apprehensive and troubled but stands and pats Jack on the back. “You are hungry, yes?” he wonders, picking up the tray. Jack almost shakes his head but North is too quick and drops the tray on his lap. The smell of broth makes his empty stomach growl so his cools the liquid and begins to sip it slowly.

Sandy points to the oatmeal cookies with a judging sort of expression on his face. North shrugs helplessly. “What?” he drawls innocently. “Tooth said soft foods are for upset stomach, oatmeal is soft.”

Sandy shakes his head signing something akin to: _oatmeal cookies aren’t oatmeal_.

“Of course not, my friend! Cookies are much better, tastier!”

The Guardian of Dreams looks exasperated, rolling his eyes, but he says nothing more. Jack avoids the sugary treats anyway so, no harm done, even if North does seem disappointed.

When the broth is gone, the largest Guardian pulls the tray from the boy’s lap and sets it aside before looking pointedly at Jack. The white-haired child shies away, gaze flickering around the room as North asks, “What is matter, Jack?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles in response, staring into his lap.

“Cannot be nothing! You are obviously troubled,” Sandy nods in agreement, “So you must tell us what is wrong. We will help you, Jack.” North’s eyes are warm and gentle when Jack finally meets them. He wants to tell them everything, but he knows what they will say. They’ll deny everything, tell him that he’s done nothing wrong when he knows he has.

_I killed them_ , he wants to say. _I could have saved them, but I didn’t_.

But North and Sandy won’t want to believe him, will tell him that it isn’t his fault. Jack knows the truth, though, and no one can tell him otherwise. He’d been so close, the little baby Pookas had been only inches away and when the darkness had threatened, he’d blasted the fearlings with frost, killing the kits as quickly as dispersing the shadows. Jack _knows_ it’s his fault.

“Jack?” North nudges the smaller Guardian.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jack answers. But his reply is choked and painful, his throat aches.

_My fault_.

Tears threaten to bubble over and fall, collecting along his lower lashes. He bits his lips and keeps his eyes open wide, if he blinks he’ll cry and he can’t cry. He doesn’t deserve to cry because it’s _his fault_.

But North collects him in his arms and Sandy’s small hands rest on his shoulder and card through his hair. And Jack can’t help it, he cries, muffling his sobs in North’s red shirt, chest and belly aching.

“’s my fault,” he whispers, lips trembling. Another sob escapes before he can take a breath and the Guardian of Wonder holds him tighter.

The glow and tinkling of dream sand swells around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Headcanon-ish Thingy: The kits had already been developing for a few months before the Guardians showed up to find them and Jack absorbs them at about two months. Which is why he so quickly got morning sickness and why his stomach is sore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was finally able to finish this chapter, I've been working on it for the last couple of weeks. I'm not entirely happy with it but if I changed it, I would have to scrap the entire thing, and I _really_ don't want to do that.
> 
> So, enjoy.

Another full day passes before Jack is able to escape the Workshop, and perhaps the others recognize his need for space because no one follows. The end of Northern Winter nears and Jack spends the next week traversing the continents to bring a few last storms – small and average for the time of the year – before finally dropping into Burgess.

It is midday when he drifts onto the Bennett’s roof but the Guardian of Fun is uncertain of the actual day and he is only marginally surprised to find that Jamie is not in his room. Sophie is too young for school though and Jack decides to spend time with her in lieu of tossing snowballs at the elementary school’s windows.

“Jack!” she shrieks when he pushes her bedroom window open.

“Hey Soph,” he calls, watching her bounce her way across the room. Perhaps seeing little kids – living and happy and growing – is not the greatest for his guilt, but Sophie is so warm and sweet and innocent. Jack tries to concentrate on those aspects instead of thinking of the kits. 

Initially, he’s successful; they play for two hours with the little blonde’s Barbies and Jack allows the girl to dress him “like a princess,” fairy wings and all. But then she pulls out her stuffed bunny.

“Hop hop!” Sophie cries and Jack’s breath catches in his throat. He nods emphatically, tears stinging his eyes.

He shifts uncomfortably for the next few minutes as Sophie babbles about her bunny, telling some kind of story.

Jamie rescues him only a few moments later when he rushes down the hallway past Sophie’s bedroom. The little girl squeals and pulls the door all the way open to chase her big brother. Jack stares at the rabbit doll lying alone on the floor, thinking of Bunny. He picks the toy up and props it up next to a passel of other dolls having a tea party.

**(Page Break)**

A week later, the Wind carries Jack high over the Equator and into Antarctica, where the cold refreshes him. There are penguins to play with and ice castles to build and Jack can simply forget. He brings snow to the few places that call for it in the Southern Hemisphere without trouble.

But then, hunger begins to tie his stomach up in knots. He rarely eats, often waiting a decade before feeling any need to, and so he thinks something might be wrong. Trying to stave off the pangs in his abdomen, he eats icicles and snowballs and has as much fun as he can to distract himself. Soon enough, however, he makes his way across the world again to North’s home.

Sneaking in is easy enough and the Yeti don’t grunt a single word when he passes them to get to the kitchen. It’s better that they don’t, he doesn’t want North to hear of his arrival, just wants to grab a quick meal and leave to spread a little more snow in Siberia and head back south.

“Hey,” he mumbles as he passes Phil’s lady friend in the kitchen. She growls affectionately and continues spreading cookie dough on the counter. He opens the refrigerator in the corner and pulls out an apple after search for a moment. Then his eyes catch on something orange in the crisper, near the bottom. Jack pulls out the bag of baby carrots, mouth watering a bit, and his stomach rumbles loudly.

_Well…_

The Guardian of Fun is half-way through the bag of carrots when North walks in. He doesn’t notice the boy at the table in the corner at first, simply observing the progress of his bakers and snagging a couple of cookies. But when he turns, he exclaims gruffly and loudly – it’s something in Russian which Jack doesn’t really understand – and rushes over to check over the white-haired Winter Spirit.

“Jack! We were worried for you! Where have you been, my friend?”

“I-”

North grabs the smaller Guardian’s shoulders, using a large thumb to turn the boy’s head this way and that, observing him. He frowns and Jack shrinks back. Nicolas St. North is frightening when he frowns.

“You look unwell, Jack,” he says simply, his hands drop abruptly and his eyes narrow as he crosses his arms.

Jack chews his lip, dropping the half-eaten carrot in his hand and pushing the bag away.

“I’m fine,” he answers, even though he suspects he isn’t.

“Oi, North! Where’d you go, ya Gumby! I thought you were just –”

Jack’s head swivels to the doorway of the kitchen where Bunny stands stock still. Green eyes pierce into him, almost a glare. North moves in front of the youngest Guardian, arms still crossed.

“Ah, I was only distracted, my friend. Come, I still need to show you new designs for egg-shaped monster toys!” the Guardian of Wonder shouts, trying to distract Aster. He walks over to fill the doorway, nose-to-nose with Bunnymund and Aster glares back. But then the Easter Bunny’s eyes soften.

“Let me talk to him, mate. I-I just need…” he explains, head dropping.

Jack suddenly notices his racing pulse and rapid breathing.

North sighs, but moves aside, allowing Bunny through. The boy, still seated, straightens, trying to seem strong and bigger and more confident. He knows it doesn’t work, but he tries.

“Bunny, I-” he whimpers, and the words catch harshly in his throat. Jack’s eyes are watering and his mouth is dry and he bites his lip.

“’m sorry, Frostbite,” Aster breathes, setting a heavy paw on the immortal child’s shoulder.

Jack chokes, alarmed. “For what? It was my fault! I-I-I killed them and it’s my _fault_ , Bunny. If I’d just…”

“Just what, Jackie? There’s nothing not one of us coulda done to help them!” Aster shouts back. Jack pushes the paw from him, standing swiftly.

“I could've tried harder!” he shouts.

At this, Bunny leans down over him, eyes blazing, yelling, “An’ I say you couldn’t’ve!” His paws frame Jack’s face and their eyes meet, both tearful and tired and angry. “Don’t you see, Jackie?” he nearly whispers. “There ain’t nothin’ we coulda done.” They’re both sobbing now.

Aster pulls Jack close, burying the boy in his grey fur and settling down onto his haunches.

“I _am_ sorry though,” the Guardian of Hope mumbles into Jack’s hair. “I blamed you for a bit and I know you never knew ‘bout that, but I’m sorry I did…” he sniffles loudly.

“’m sorry too. That they’re gone,” Jack replies, voice muffled in Bunnymund’s chest.

Aster sniffles again.

“Bunny?” calls North, seeing the other’s ears perk up.

The Pooka shakes his head. “S’nothin’. I just thought I smelled some-” He sniffs again. “Frostbite?” he asks, pulling the boy away from him to sniff at his face, then his shoulder, then his breastbone.

“Bunny, what are you-” Jack squeaks loudly as Aster’s cold nose pushes the hem of his hoodie up.

“Turn to the side, Jackie,” Bunny commands, not wait for a reply before yanking the teenager in the direction he wants and lifting the hoodie up over Jack’s head. The boy catches the garment, holding it to his chest, feeling exposed. The Guardian of Hope stares at Jack’s middle from several different angles before turning to boy back to face him and settling a long ear against his belly.

“Bunny?”

“Shh!”

Jack presses his lips together, worried that something was wrong. Well, he knows _something_ has to be wrong, what with his sudden hunger and the nausea in the weeks before. Something cold and heavy drops into his stomach when Bunny’s eyes widen.

“Bunny?” he asks fearfully, clutching his sweatshirt closer, worrying his lip.

“Ah-I don’t believe it…” the Pooka whispers. Jack’s brow wrinkles.

“Aster?” calls North, stepping forward cautiously. “Everything is all right, no?"

“All right? ’s more than all right, mate,” Bunnymund smiles and tears trickle from his green eyes. He wraps strong paws around Jack’s sides, leaning forward to press his nose against bare skin. “They’re here,” he whispers, voice choked, fur matting as he weeps.

“I don’t understand,” Jack replies, twisting his hoodie between pale fingers.

“They’re here!” Bunnymund cries before letting out a bark of strangled laughter. “They’ve been here all along, Jackie!” He lifts the smaller spirit into his arms and against his chest. “My kits! Jack, you saved’em!”

“Th-the kits? What are y-”

The Pooka sets Jack on his feet before pressing a warm paw to the boy’s belly. “They’re in here, Frostbite, I can smell’em, they’re in there and they’re alive and you _saved_ them.” Bunny sobs openly, resting his face in Jack’s hair.

The younger spirit reached downward, pushing away Bunny’s heavy paw with frail, cold fingers. When he strokes down his stomach he notices how not-flat it is, there’s the slightest hint of a bump and he feels… shocked. The blood rushes from the Winter Spirit’s face and his cheeks feel oddly stiff. As the world begins to spin he feels warm tears drip from his eyes and he cuddles into Bunny’s chest.

He’s carrying Bunny’s kits!

He didn’t know he could do that!

Oh Moon, he’s going to be sick.

Jack wrenches himself from Aster’s arms, throwing up once again in North’s kitchen sink. It’s different this time since he actually has something in his stomach besides bile and he really regrets eating those carrots.

Carrots. Heh. He’d had a craving for carrots and he’s preg… carrying… carrying is a good word because he… The kits are inside of him and they are going to have to come out of him somehow. And there’d been four of them in the pool…

He vomits into the sink again but now Bunnymund is there, rubbing his back soothingly and _thanking_ him. _Thanking_ him.

“S’not like I really did anything,” Jack mutters hoarsely, accepting a glass of cool water from North and a towel from the female Yeti.

“Well, thanks in advance then, for having them, I guess,” Aster smiles softly then grimaces as Jack spits out his mouth full of water into the sink, carrot bits and all. Breathing heavily, the spirit allows the older Guardian to pull him away from the sink and into a chair. The towel is yanked from his grip and soaked in the remaining water and Aster cleans his face, wiping sweat from his brow and vomit from his chin.

**(Page Break)**

North guides Jack and Bunny to a single guest room, because Aster refuses to leave the Winter Spirit alone now that they know exactly where the kits are. But also because Jack doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, doesn’t want to become overwhelmed with the idea of the kits in his belly. They lay together in a nest of cushions and blankets and soft pillows meant for Bunnymund’s infrequent and unlikely visits and the Pooka still cries, but quietly. The youngest of the Guardians moves closer and allows the oldest of them to gather him close and stroke his abdomen.

He really doesn’t mind the closeness and the petting and cuddles in closer. His mind races with questions but Jack is tired and Bunny will be there in the morning. He supposes they will have to figure everything out together. The Pooka tucks the boy beneath his chin, whispering something in a language Jack doesn’t know and sighing contentedly into white hair.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been gone for a while. Originally I was going to replace chapter 7 and go in an entirely different direction but I already had the original plot outlined. Basically, I'm too lazy to redo the entire outline so here's Chapter 8.

Bunny wakes long before Jack, finding no light streaming through the windows. But he can clearly see Jack’s pale, exhausted face in the darkness, dark shadows beneath bone-white lids. The smaller doesn’t stir and Aster takes the opportunity to take in the scent of the kits. The Pooka imagines them, tiny and curled up, cramped in the too-small body of a human boy. He wonders if they’re cold inside Jack, wonders if Jack is getting enough to eat to sustain them, and he wonders how long Jack will carry them.

Aster realizes then that _Jack_ will be carrying four little kits for the next few months. Jack who is carried by the wind, thousands of feet above the ground, Jack who enjoys diving from the sky, Jack who lets kids come out to play in the snow without gloves and boots, Jack who likes to swing from the rafters in the Workshop and throw snowballs at powerful spirits who don’t always appreciate the ‘fun times’ he offers.

E. Aster Bunnymund is worried.

Worried that Jack will do something to strain himself and accidentally harm the kits, that the Wind will drop the boy without meaning to. He worries that the kits will not survive being carried by Jack despite the boy’s good intentions.

Jack is not terribly responsible or wise; he tends to act before he thinks.

And suddenly Bunnymund wants to hold Jack close as his belly swells and the kits grow, hold him so he can’t move and hurt the kits unknowingly. He wants to lock Jack away in the Warren, in his nest, so the boy can’t escape and break Aster’s heart again.

He leaves the room before he can overthink it. What matters is that they are alive, that they have chance. Jack, even if he isn’t an ideal parent, is good enough for a surrogate. No one ever said Jack would help him raise the kits.

Aster pauses outside of the quietly-closed door.

Will Jack want to raise the kits? They’re inside of him, he’s carrying them but… Jack is young, having barely left childhood himself. _Could_ he raise a child?

“Bunny?”

North stands several feet down the hall, hand on the doorknob of his office. He stares at Bunny, brow wrinkled. 

“Huh?” Aster looks up, finally noticing his own shaking paws. North steps forward to place a broad hand on the Pooka’s shoulder.

“We should talk, my friend. So much has changed so quickly,” the Guardian of Wonder hesitates, looking away from Aster’s face. “We must discuss how to move forward.”

Bunnymund finds himself in a plush chair in North’s office, the desk before him covered in half-finished carvings and schematics. Nick offers him his customary fruitcake and as always, Aster turns the Christmas treat down. They sit in silence for a long moment, each avoiding the other’s eyes. They’re good enough friends, having supported each other in battle, but neither is good with serious emotional conversations. Banter is their communication of choice and they tease good-naturedly over their holidays, how Tooth glances at North when she’s had little too much eggnog, Bunny’s libido… Anything.

Anything and everything except for their emotions.

Finally North clears his throat and rests both hands firmly on the desk in front of him.

“So… Jack is… mothering…your kits,” he attempts, obviously struggling to keep his eyes firmly on Aster’s face.

A chill ripples down Bunnymund’s spine, immobilizing him. But he nods numbly, fists clenching on the armrests of the chair. Will Jack be a mother… a parent?

**(Page Break)**

Jack wakes alone and it takes a moment to recognize North’s guest room and once he does his hand flies to the faint rise of his belly. It _had_ happened then. They are inside him.

He’s overwhelmed by dizziness for a moment and when the nervous feeling clears he decides to stand. The door to the bathroom is open and the rugged stone of the floor catches his attention. A bath couldn’t hurt.

He strips off his hoodie and the shirt beneath it and when his belt is removed he notices how the metal buckle has begun to dig into the barely-there lump on his stomach. Jack reminds himself to loosen it when he redresses. For now, the Guardian of Fun shucks his pants then realizes that he hasn’t yet run the water for his bath. After turning the handle of the faucet and testing the water, looking for that temperature that’s just shy of scalding him, he moves to stand in front of the mirror. The tub is big, longer than Jack is tall and at least four times his girth and it will be a while before it’s filled.

The mirror is long, stretching the length of the concrete vanity which holds two sinks and enough room for Jack to lay out on. Meeting his own eyes, the boy gathers his courage to look down. He convinces himself that his body can’t be that much changed from the last time he looked in a mirror – not that he can recall when that last time was.

Exhaling shakily, Jack peers down at his belly.

It only appears slightly less flat, just between his hipbones and beneath his bellybutton. He turns to the side to see the difference more clearly. The growth is more pronounced from this angle. Seeing the protrusion, he attempts to suck in his stomach which doesn’t do much. He sighs.

“What am I doing?” he asks the mirror. His reflection stares back with confused eyes.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he attempts to ignore it… them… the kits. He really just needs to relax and take a nice warm bath.

Noticing the tub is full, he pads over to shut off the faucet and slowly steps into the water. It’s hot to him, though he doubts it would be to others. He likes it that way, being encased in the heat is comforting and he needs the reassurance right now. He needs to know that he’ll be okay, that he can carry the four little creatures inside of him.

Jack wonders how long Pooka kits take to grow and if Bunny will let him hold them once they’re born. They aren’t really Jack’s, they aren’t even human, though Jack supposes that he isn’t really human either.

But they’re _inside_ of him. He’s carrying them like… like a mother would. Overwhelmed, he rests his head back on the ledge of the tub, breathing deeply again. What if… what if he hurts them? What if they grow wrong inside of him and can’t survive? What if they _die_ inside him?

He’s out of the tub and leaning over the toilet in mere moments. Having not eaten after the carrots – already down the kitchen sink – dry heaves shake him. Jack’s throat hurts and his stomach roils but suddenly he’s _starving_. Once he’s stopped retching, the Guardian of Fun leans against the tiled wall, cool against his sweating form. He’s shaking uncontrollably and he might be crying a bit, but he isn’t certain if it’s from the pain of his throat or from the emotion draining him of energy.

Jack waits until his eyes are dry and his stomach aches from hunger to stand again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This looked so much longer in Word...


End file.
